


Wanna See Something Beautiful?

by andiebeaword



Series: Spencer Reid Mature One Shots [8]
Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Casual Flirting, Dark!Spencer (a little), F/M, Flashbacks, Kissing, Mentions of alcohol, Mutual Pining, Prison!Angst, alcohol consumption, alludes to sex, cursing, discovery of romantic feelings, meet cute, tipsy!reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-17
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-12 18:28:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29513922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andiebeaword/pseuds/andiebeaword
Summary: Spencer has been in prison for months now. After he chose to take her name off the visitor's log, Reader decides to start writing Spencer letters. Eventually, he writes her back.
Relationships: Spencer Reid/Reader
Series: Spencer Reid Mature One Shots [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2115516
Kudos: 15





	Wanna See Something Beautiful?

**Author's Note:**

> I fully intended to write 100% fluff, but then I saw this prison!Spencer prompt and I was like: Angst with a happy ending is still good, right? Also, this was definitely much longer than I was anticipating it being!

\-------♥-------- 

The moment I heard the judge hit her gavel down in front of her, the second my eyes caught that look in my best friend's eyes when he was lifted from his seat as the thin metal latched around his precious wrists ---- that would be the moment I lost all hope in humanity, at least, until I was able to see his face again. 

My best friend. The genius Dr. Spencer Reid has just be denied bail and charged with first degree murder. He was now being escorted out by two guards. The second my ears heard the clicking sound of the handcuffs that were now around his wrists, I had to hold it together not to cry. What the hell was he thinking?! Going all the way to Mexico without so much as telling me?! I hated to admit that it softened the blow a little to find out Spencer also refused to tell even his closest friends and co-workers at the BAU. Just the thought of them knowing something like that before me, his best friend, it just rubbed me the wrong way. 

"He can't go to prison," I heard one of his co-workers say behind me, "he won't survive." He won't survive. That's exactly what I believe we're all truly afraid of. 

-

It was a sunny day in the heart of Virginia. I hadn't lived here long, but I could already tell I was going to love it here. I had already gotten lucky in finding a quietly-quaint bookstore just off Third Street. I was there, in the non-fiction section, minding my own business when I heard a couple faint apologies coming from the curtesy desk. 

"Excuse me, ma'am, I just, I --- I was really looking forward to buying this particular book, the internet, which I don't use often outside of work, said that yours was the only one within 50 miles to have it."

"Sir, I understand, here, let me look it up for you, again. Now, what was the title?" 

I heard softer, indistinguishable chatter to follow, none of which I could pick up in my pathetic attempt at eavesdropping. The male voice I heard was so serene and gentle, I just had to see who it belonged to. 

When I say my heart stopped mid-beat, I'm not kidding. 

The man the voice belonged to was tall, over six foot at least, with semi-long curly soft brown hair with just a small hint of stubble across his cheeks that I could detect from over ten feet away. His jawline was the most defined jaw I've ever seen in all my 20+ years of existence.I watched from behind a row of books as he continued to discuss with the clerk, gesturing wildly with his hands. He sure had the kind of hands I could only imagine myself dreaming about on a cold, lonely, nig---

"Excuse me, is this the non-fiction section?" 

I fumbled over my two left feet, trying to maintain whatever balance I only thought I had in that moment. When I dared a glance at who startled me, it was none other than the man whose serene voice had me head over heels. I nodded dumbly, pointing down the aisle we were already standing in. "Thank you." The kind gentleman brushed past me without another word, leaving me there speechless. 

I tried to brush the whole interaction off, believing I made a bigger deal out of it than it was. Sighing, I moved to stand in line down at the in-store coffee shop, hoping to get a cup of coffee before running a few more errands for the day. When it came time for me to order, I walked up, greeting the cashier with a smile while naming off what I wanted. "And I'll have a large black coffee, please," the same melodic voice spoke up, his presence practically keeping me rooted to the floor beneath me. When the cahier rambled off the total, the kind stranger simply handing him a $20, nodding to keep the change, gently pushing me aside with him, keeping a hand on my lower back. "Sorry, I just---I wanted the opportunity to introduce myself. Dr. Spencer Reid," he said, giving me a tiny wave of his hand. 

"Smooth, Doctor Reid," I giggled. "You can call me Y/N, but I warn you, friends know me as Y/N/N," I chucked as our order was being called. I extended out my hand, curious as to why he hadn't. I got my answer so fast, my head spun. 

"Oh, uhh, I don't shake hands, actually, you know, the staggering truth is that there are far more germs alive in the human hand and palm than there are on one's lips. That's why it's been found that its actually much safer to kiss." Who the fuck was this man? Feeling rather bold, seeing as he'd asserted himself into having coffee with me, I opted to return the favor, so to speak. 

"Well, in that case," I murmured, moving close enough to leave a small, but firm, peck on his right cheek, admiring the faint stain of my lipstick as I pulled away. The deep, crimson blush I saw creep up his flushed cheeks made me feel rather confident around him. 

We'd been inseparable ever since. 

-

Until now. 

•••

Day 53. 

I was beginning to feel immune to guessing what it would be like to be home on my own bed again. Waking up on rough cotton night in and night out wasn't my idea of helping to get a good night's rest. I imagine that's not their goal, here, for us. 

Us. I've been here too long. I'm already finding it easier to associate myself with them, these other prisoners who've done god knows what, while I --- I still have a terrible time remembering just what Emily and Ms. Duncan want me to say whenever it was their turn to visit me. I both hated and was grateful that Y/N hasn't been here to see me. I almost decided to blacklist her from seeing me, but I knew if I did, Garcia would be the first to question me as to why I'd done it. And I wasn't sure I was ready to answer them. Hell, I wouldn't know how to answer them. I had a feeling if Y/N did decide to come visit me, she'd do it after at least hearing how it went from Garcia or J.J. 

That's why, when she finally did show up to see me, it opened something in me I thought I had buried a long time ago. Now, it was quickly bubbling back up to the surface. 

\- 

I woke up this morning, feeling extra giddy. I had no idea why. It was just any other normal day for me. But then I found myself attempting to make breakfast with just an apple and a banana, and wondered what Y/N was doing on her Saturday morning. 

We'd been friends now for a little over three months. I often expected her to drop me out of the blue, and I would just accept it, assuming she'd found somebody new and less boring to hang around. I counted my lucky stars every day that she still picked up her phone when I called. 

Except this time, when I heard her voicemail three times.

Without thinking, I found myself in front of her apartment door, knocking on the wood with my knuckles before my brain could catch up to what my body had already done. I leaned in, pressing my ear right up to the fine oak, hoping to hear something telling me she was home. 

Just as I was about to assume she was out for the day, I heard some distinct rustling, and what sounded like someone saying "Oh, shit!" and I could already recognize that it wasn't her voice who said that. 

I wished, in that moment, that I was like Morgan, able to bust down doors in seconds. Instead, I did what any sane male friend would do when they hear another man's voice coming from inside their female friend's apartment, a voice I knew I'd never heard before. 

"Fuck, Darren, just----can you please just go?!" I heard some more rustling then the distinct sound of the doorknob twisting, I stepped back, coming face to face with this so-called Darren. He didn't look threatening, but, judging by how Y/N reacted, I'm going with my hunch that he was nothing but a jerk. 

I seized my opportunity, noting that her door was still open. I welcomed myself inside, locking it, then pacing towards the living room, hoping to find my friend. "Spencer, wha--what are you doing here?" When I glanced up to meet her eyes, mine, unfortunately, couldn't help but take in the sight before me. 

Her hair was mussed, her eyes were puffy with tear-stains on her cheeks; she was wearing a silk robe barely covering a sheer negligee that left nothing to my imagination. I audibly gulped, hoping, maybe she'd notice and disappear into her bedroom for something more .... not that. 

It was as if Y/N'd read my mind. 

"Spence, what are you ..." she looked down, quickly taking in her lack of sensible wardrobe, apologizing as she padded down the hall, shutting her bedroom door behind her. I took my usual spot on her couch, hoping she knew me well enough to know I hadn't left. As I sat there, I wondered what she ever saw in guys like Darren. Then again, maybe that was the point. "Hey," Y/N said softly, now standing behind the couch in her normal morning attire: oversized t-shirt, fuzzy pajama pants, and her fuzzy slippers. "I, uhh, wished you would've called---" 

"Y/N, I called you three times," I explained. "That's why I'm here, well, also 'cause I was hoping you had a wider variety of breakfast options. I haven't gone grocery shopping this week." She just laughed, and it made my heart palpitate. I watched as she bent down in front of me to grab her phone off the end table next to me. I wasn't lucky in my attempts to avoid glancing at her cleavage. She frowned before putting it back down. Her entire face softened as her eyes met mine again. 

"I am so sorry, Spence...I--I just---I feel like the worst friend, now." Worst friend? No such thing. Especially not when it come to her. 

"Y/N, if you think just because I saw your---" I couldn't, for the life of me, say 'fuck buddy,' so I just let the silence speak for me, "---well, you'd be wrong. If anything, I'm the bad friend right now," I chuckled, dryly. "I'm sorry you're having breakfast with me instead of...him." 

"Who? Darren?" she scoffed, moving past me into the kitchen. I followed her like a puppy. I noticed how she recoiled within herself, and my first thought came flooding back. Before I could clear my throat to speak, she kept going. "Don't--you don't have to worry about hearing regarding him, again. I'm just---I'm sorry you had to witness that." The second I saw her eyes blink back tears, I moved to envelope her in a hug so tight, it gave me a weird sensation I wanted to chase as she wrapped her arms around my middle. Y/N let out a few sobs, squeezing me tighter each time. I did the same. 

As she pulled away, she looked up at me, silently thanking me for doing something she's well aware I rarely do---even with her. I felt a small prick pf pain in my gut, knowing I could easily remedy the situation, if I just learned how. 

-

"Hi, Spence," she said, looking at me with a mixture of hurt and softness. I immediately raised my arms over the plexiglass to hug her, before one of the guards yelled, "No touching!" We both dropped our smiles for a brief moment, before sitting down to talk. 

"Hey, you---" just when I was about to ask her why she was here, a fear crept up inside me, "--you're not here because of my mom? How is she? Does she know abou---" 

"No, Spence," Y/N assured me. Last thing I needed was my mother discovering her only son was currently serving time .... because of her. "Hey, um, no, she doesn't know you're... here. But, well, I might have told her that you were told by Emily to take a much-needed vacation...to the beach." I laughed a little at that image. Me...at a beach. That's almost as believable as my mother riding a camel. 

"Wha--what made you come up with that?" She just shrugged a little, her eyes glazing over, then as they looked down, catching sight of my attire, I saw the fear rush back in. 

"Um, you know, I just---I wanted to make her happy, and that---that seemed to do the trick." 

•••

"I'm, uhhh, I'm really glad to see you, Y/N," Spencer whispered, just loud enough so I could hear. I couldn't help but smile at that statement. I'd been worried the entire drive over here to the Millburn Correctional Facility on a Friday afternoon. That smile dissipated at his next words. "But, I just---I wished you wouldn't have come." 

"Why?" My heart couldn't stop my mouth from spitting out the one-worded question back in his face. What does he mean by 'I wish you wouldn't have come?' Despite wanting to pick up my purse and leave, I remained in my seat, glaring at Spencer for a second before I remembered that he is still in prison, probably having much shittier moments than I am hearing my best friend tell me I made a mistake by showing up. I shook my head, looking back up at him. "You know what? It doesn't matter," I said, sternly, hoping he didn't pick up on the way I grinded my teeth, "because you're stuck with me, whether you like it or not." 

"I'm sorry, Y/N, it's just---" Spencer leaned forward slightly, causing me to mirror his actions as he continued whispering, "---I don't like hearing about when--when they look at you, and assume--I just, I can't stand the way they assume I must see you." I gave him my best confused look. 

"And what way would that be?" 

"Like you're just a--a piece to get." I shook my head at him, again. I glanced behind him, seeing one of the inmates being shooed away by a guard. Just before, I did catch the way he was eyeing me. Like I was a prize to be won. 

"Spence, it doesn't bother me, okay? I promise you, I'm fine. All worth it to see my best friend." And it was. The way he looked now, his hair all mussed, his eyes drowning in pain, the stubble along his chin and jawline...I wanted to simultaneously take the pain away while also quenching my thirst over this stupid crush I still have on him. 

-

"Hey, Y/N, sorry I'm late." 

Spencer and I had agreed to meet at his favorite coffee shop, since he was given a rare day off from work. Unlike myself, who had the same two days off every week like clockwork, his days off were unscheduled and few and far in between. My heart picked up it's normal rhythmic beating as I watched his whole face light up the second he saw me. 

"I honestly thought that maybe you'd have ditched me." I couldn't keep the bubbling laughter in, even if I tried. 

"Spence, why would I ever ditch you? Besides, it makes more sense for me to be the one thinking it was you who ditched. You're---" 

"Over thirty-two minutes late, I know," he said, sheepishly, joining me at the small table I had been sitting at for the past half-hour. He eyed the cup I had ordered to his precise liking, though by now, it's bound to be too cold for him to want to drink it. "Was this meant for me?" Spencer pointed at the cup still in front of him. 

"Yeah, had I known you'd be late, I'd have gotten me a longjohn, instead." I glanced back up at the counter, looking slightly over to the display case. They were now out of my favorite donut. I tried to brush it off, but I was sure Spencer would pick up on it. He always does. 

I was about to take his cold cup and dump it, in order to buy him another one when he picked it up, taking a small sip then setting it down, still keep his fingers wrapped around the paper koozie. He looked up at me with an expression I could only describe as 'shocked.' 

"You uhh, you know how I like my coffee?" He said it in such a curious tone, I almost questioned his profiling skills. I made a show of pointing my index finger at his cup, barely touching one of his knuckles. 

"Spence..we've been friends for months now, and you really think I wouldn't have noticed by now how you like your coffee?" He shrunk in on himself a little bit, glancing back up at me, then over at the counter. He turned his head back to face me, a smile smile creeping over his lips. 

"Wait right here, I'll be right back." 

Before I could protest, Spencer was out of his seat, scrambling over to the cashier. I figured he decided he did need a new cup of coffee, one that was piping hot with loads of sugar just to his liking. When he sat back down in front of me, he carefully placed a small plate between us, holding two longjohns. I looked back up at him, his smirk now a full-fledged smile, his pearly whites almost blinding me at this point. 

"Are those for me?" Spencer glanced down at the breakfast he had boughten, turning his dimples into another smirk. A moment later, I see him reaching across the table, picking up a longjohn, taking a bite out of it before placing it down on a napkin in front if him. "So, just the one was for me, then?" I teased, grabbing my donut in fear that if I didn't, Spencer would take a bite out of mine, too, even though I know he wouldn't. 

As I watched him finish his donut, there was a little but of frosting left on his face, close to his lips. Before I could stop myself, my hand acted like it had a mind of its own, reaching out to hold his chin, swiping my thumb at the delicious concoction that I now dipped in my own mouth, sucking it off, entirely. It wasn't until I glanced back up at Spencer, that I realized my mistake. I touched him. I touched him without his permission. 

I watched in horror as he slowly brought a finger up to where some creme still was, swiping it all off in one go, licking it off with his tongue like he had no clue what the action, alone, was doing to me. 

Wait ... what was it doing to me? 

Then I heard the man sitting in front of me laugh, a sound I wish I could hear on repeat like my favorite song. Fuck. I have feelings for Spencer. I am crushing on my best friend. Someone please prepare my funeral. 

-

"Visiting hours are over," the guard says, prompting me back to reality. A reality in which Spencer is still stuck in this hellhole, a place that is slowly changing him before my eyes. "Inmates, line up." 

"Hey, Spence, look at me," I said, causing him to pause and turn his head, his face already expressionless. It killed me to see the light that was once so bright in him just fade so quickly over time in here. "Stay strong, promise me." He nods his head, a tear streams down his cheek and I want so badly to reach up and swipe it away. 

But, I can't. 

•••

Day 75

It's been a few weeks now since Y/N has come to visit me. A part of me is glad that she hasn't, meaning she's somewhere keeping busy, hopefully not worrying at all about me. 

Lunch was uneventful. Calvin, who, apparently is one of the unofficially leaders inside here, stopped to sit with me, telling me in few words that he knows I'm a fed, or was a fed, and gave me his word that his boys would leave me alone. 

"It's predator or prey in here, fed. Which one are you?" 

I'm sitting in my cell right now, trying hard to focus on a letter I've been writing to my mom. I'm glad that Y/N told her I was enjoying some vacation time at the beach. As I'm writing the letter tho, I wish not only that it were true, but that she was with me, splashing around in the waves while I sat on a cot in the sand. I dislike the feeling of it touching my feet, with, or without shoes. Y/N would probably drag me out, thinking she had to use every trick in the book, when really, all she would ever have to do .... is ask. 

Without warning, I heard the door to my cell sound and open. Fuck. I'm well aware that the only way for that to happen is if it's a guard or....

Two of Calvin's boys appeared as the door stopped, prompting me to close my journal and tuck it away under my cot for safe keeping. They both walked over to where I was sitting, their faces telling me that, for whatever their reasons, they believed I had something to do with something that inevitably pissed them off. 

"What's up, snitch?" Snitch? Shit. Calvin. I knew I couldn't trust him. Trusting him was like trusting an unsub whose holding a gun to your skull, telling you 'everything's gonna be alright,' right before they pull the trigger. "Ya know, a while back, that your girlfriend come to see you?" Girlfriend. Just hearing this lowlife speak of Y/N like that, like he thinks he knows about her, about me, about..us, it simply makes my blood boil. 

"She's just my friend," I say without a second thought. Apparently, that wasn't the answer they were looking for. They both still stood there, slowly nodding their heads. 

"You never got any?" Normally, if asked that question, my initial response would've been 'got any what?' but in here, and knowing that they were talking about Y/N, specifically, well, it didn't make me feel anything but anger. I didn't even so much as shake my head, or utter the word, 'no.' "What's wrong with you, man?!" 

Next thing I know, the same guy is grabbing at my shirt, yanking me by my collar, and tossing me towards the wall. Just as my back hit it, I winced at the contact, but I couldn't find relief, let alone time to feel the pain before the other guy shoved a hand towel in my mouth, gripping it against me as I tried to scream out of instinct. 

He's punching me right at my crotch, at my balls, and all I can do is cry over the stupid muffled towel. I tried to see who the guy was guarding my cell, but between the blows coming at me, my vision was starting to go white. I hated that I was thankful they stopped quickly, only to shove back onto my bed, the towel back over my mouth before I thought to scream 'FIRE!' Luckily, I was still able to breath through my nose, a technique I doubt they thought I would have. 

There is no way they know I'm a fed. If they did, this form of torture would be a walk in the park, compared to what I know others have lived and died through while behind bars, and none of them were ever once law enforcement. I continued to scream as loud as I possibly could, eventually passing out in the process. 

-

Next thing I know, I'm laying on my bed in my cell, the towel nowhere to be found. I quickly stuck my fingers underneath the flimsy padding they have the audacity to call a mattress inside here, to check that my journal was still there. The second the pads of my fingers felt the metal coil, I smiled. I quickly got rid of it at the sound of the doors opening. 

I stepped outside, matching my feet to the line like I've done for the past two and a half months. Two and a half months. That mean I've been in here ten weeks already. I glance over, making eye contact with the two guys who assaulted me last night. I wish I knew who the guard was that helped him. I think Emily is coming to see me today. Last I heard from her, she was trying to get Fiona to meet, so that they could go over more of what happened to me in Mexico. 

I doubt it. With Scratch's drugs in my system, I felt like I knew I had been the one to kill Nadie Ramos. I keep going over the broken bits of memory, but everytime I do, I am left with the same conclusion. Between what happened to me last night and the bouts of confusion I struggle with while in here, I decided I needed to figure out how to prevent Y/N from ever coming back here, again. 

Based on the 'good behavior' and the 'stay away from the skinny white guy pixiedust' I seem to have sprinkled all over myself, I have been granted phone privileges. The first call I make is to Garcia. 

Garcia📲: Reid? Spencer? Is that you? Oh please, tell me it's you! I loved that she clearly saw it was an incoming call from the Milburn Correctional Facility. I wasn't sure how that worked, but that's just one of the many reasons we have Garcia. They have Garcia. Reid? Honey, are you okay? 

Me📲: Yes, Garcia, it's me. I, uhh, I need to ask you something. 

Garcia📲: Anything. I took in a deep breath, already knowing I would need to provide her with an explanation the moment I opened my mouth. 

Me📲: I need you to use whatever means necessary to keep Y/N away from seeing me. The incoming silence left a salty taste in my mouth. Garcia? Penelope? Please, I---if I tell you why, will you promise that this stays between us? 

Garcia📲: Oh, uhh, yeah--yes, I can do that. 

Me📲: Y/N visited me a while back and---it was one of the reasons I got beat up for yesterday. 

Garcia📲: I'm sorry, full stop. YOU GOT BEAT UP?!

Me📲: Garcia! Keep your voice down! 

Garcia📲: Reid, J.J. told me that when she visited, she got the usual 'catcalls,' too. 

Me📲: Believe me, I would gladly take a beating over those guys hurt her or Y/N, but---I need to survive in here, Garcia. Before I could even try to elaborate more, the guard on the other side hollered at me to let the next guy use the phone. Can you just--please, make sure she doesn't come back. Please...

Garcia📲: I will if you promise me you won't do anything to get yourself killed. Silence. Promise me, Spencer! 

Me📲: I promise. With that, I placed the receiver back on the base, and walked out, taking my spot against the wall. As I let my body give against the brick, I found myself thinking back to one of the best days of my life. 

-

"Spence! Please, stop! I give, I give! Uncle!!!" 

Y/N and I had just been lounging around at her apartment, watching Star Trek reruns, when she turned to me with a devious look on her face. Before I could even mull over the possibilities, she attacked me, tickling my underarms, and every other area on my body she could reach. I allowed her the false knowledge of thinking I was ticklish, just long enough to turn the tables, flipping her so that she was now laying on the couch on her back while I mercilessly wiggled my fingers all over her body. 

"Alright, since you asked so nicely," I teased, helping her up into a sitting position. I pulled her close without meaning to and, just like that, our noses touched. Suddenly, the air surrounding us felt thick and briefly uncomfortable. I took in a slow gulp as I breathed out. I was so sure she'd move away, put some distance between us, but she actually got even closer. I took in a moment to look at her, like really look at her. 

Her face was slightly damp due to the excessive laughing we'd been doing as the result of our tickle fight. Her eyes seemed softer than before, and I let mine drift down the bridge of her cute nose until they reached her lips. Shit. Cute? Did I just use the word 'cute' in my head to describe Y/N? Her fingers slowly crawled up my arm, bringing me back to reality with her. Only it didn't seem like reality to me. Not when I couldn't stop my eyes from staring at her lips as I felt mine being pulled closer to them. 

Just before I could feel what it was like to have her lips on mine, I heard a sound interrupt our .... moment, one that sounded almost identical to what a whoopie cushion sounds like when you sit on it as the result of a trick. 

Y/N pulled away faster than I could blink, her entire body removing itself from the couch altogether, apologizing as she bolted towards the bathroom. A few minutes later, I heard the door creak open, finding her standing hesitantly near the couch as if she were afraid to sit down again. Trying to ease some of her obvious worry, I blurted out the first fact that came to mind. 

"Contrary to what the majority believe, only one percent of natural gasses expelled via flatulence actually smells foul." I'm not what I was expecting her reaction to be, but it wasn't at all the one I got. 

"How hard it is for you to just say the word, 'fart?'" Y/N questioned me in between bouts of giggles. I broke into a small smile, grateful that she wasn't at all mad at me. "Though, I will say that was thoroughly embarrassing, to say the least. I try to wait until you're gone or passed out on the couch." I furrowed my brows at that. 

"Y/N, I would never laugh at you if and when you ... fart." Without even meaning to, I whispered that last word. "Besides, did you know that the word derives from the Old English word 'feortan,' which quite literally translates to 'to break wind?'" Luckily for me, she laughed lightly, gently pushing me sideways on the couch. 

"Well, as always, thank you, Spencer for that lovely fact, I will not only refer to it as 'breaking wind.'" After a moment of silence, Y/N 'broke wind,' again. "Shit! I swear I thought I was done." We both laughed before settling back into the couch as Y/N put in a movie of her choosing. "Hey, Spence?" I turned my head to face her. If ever I thought there was only friendship between us, the way she was looking at me now made me question that exponentially. "Tell me, which type strikes your fancy?" I gave her a puzzling look just as she gestured towards the television. 

Oh. Ohh. 

"Well, um, I don't really think I have a 'type' per say, I just---it's a feeling, I guess." As I watched her visibly deflate, I wanted to do everything in my power to bring back her smile just so I can see it again. When I saw her frown at my words, I tried hard to detect what it was I said that made her stop smiling. Without thinking, I shot up from my spot on the couch and rushed to the bathroom, coming out with her table-top mirror. I've watched her use it to do her makeup quite a few times, even though I keep telling her she never needs to. "Close your eyes." 

"Why?" Her smile came back, small, but still there. I beamed at her as I joined her back on the couch. 

"Just trust me." So, Y/N gently closed her eyes for me. I placed the mirror in front of my face, knowing she'd be looking only at her own reflection when she opens her eyes. I carefully rested my other hand over one of hers. "Would you like to see something beautiful?" She nodded, slowly opening her eyes. 

"Spence, that's just a mirror." I rolled my eyes at her, silently telling her, 'yeah, I know,' as I held it up a little closer to her. 

"What do you see?" Y/N shrugged her shoulders, taking a hand and lowering the mirror down in between us. 

"I only see me. I thought you asked me if I wanted to see something beautiful?" 

"I do, I want you to see what I get to see everytime I look at you." I felt something tingling in my heart as Y/N visibly softened at my words. 

"Please, you're just saying that 'cause you're my friend." What came out of my mouth next, I wouldn't come to regret until months down the road. 

"No, it's because I'm your best friend, and you're mine, too." 

-

You were always more than my best friend, I thought to myself as I turned over on my cot with a pencil in my right hand. I added one more tally mark to the many already there, a cruel reminder of how long I've been here. "One day, Y/N, I'll get out of here, and then...then I'll you just how I feel." Just then, a buzzer sounded, and I gripped the pencil a little too tight, causing it to snap in my hand. "Shit," I mumbled, moving quickly to hide the pencil and my journal under my cot, near the center. 

"Hey, inmate!" I heard a guard yell. "Got a letter for you." A letter? I was pretty sure I wasn't granted mailing privileges just yet, but the guard, who apparently wasn't waiting for me to stand up to take the letter, slid it through the bars as I watched it land not even three feet in front of me. My instinct was to say 'thank you,' but I somehow knew not to do that here. 

I tore open the envelope, already recognizing the handwriting on the front. 

Dear Spencer, 

I hate you. I hate you for making it so I can't come see you anymore. I don't care what any of the others in there say about me, it will never change the fact that I miss you so damn much, and it kills me, knowing you won't let me have the one thing that was keeping me from falling apart here. I had to miss work, I was such a mess. 

I'm better now, not much, but...better. 

I miss you. Have I said that? 

I want to stay mad at you, but, well, it's hard. So, since you have now refused to let me see you, I figured you would, at least, maybe write to me, instead? I need to know you're okay. That...that we're okay. I feel like I did something wrong here. Please, write me back. 

Love, Y/N

With a heavy hand on the paper, I did write her back. I just hoped that when she reads it, she'll understand why I did what I did, even when I couldn't bring myself to be honest with her in the process. 

•••

Unknown Number📲: Y/N, sweetie, this is Penelope Garcia, um, I work with Spencer at the BAU, a voice came on over my voicemail. I'm so sorry to have to tell you this, but, well, Spencer has decided to remove you from the visitor's list. He wouldn't tell me why, but just know that I'm sure for whatever his reasons, it's because he cares about you alot.

When it ended, I had half a mind to dial the Milburn Correctional Facility, demanding to find out why I was no longer a name on the list of visitors allowed for Spencer Reid. Instead, I went for a walk, earbuds in, blaring music that spoke to the overwhelming feelings I was ignoring. 

By the time I had returned home, I didn't feel like doing much of anything. I called into work several times, I began writing a letter to Spencer, tossing balled up mistakes here and there. Once I was remotely satisfied with the twenty-eighth one, I sealed it and mailed it off. 

-

"Hi, Y/N?" 

I lifted my face above the menu. Zach. After I told myself to get a grip, that Spencer wasn't going to return my feelings the way I had hoped, I turned to online dating. Major mistake. Every guy always had something wrong with them, the main one being: none of them could ever be Spencer. 

"Hey...Zach?" The man nodded. His profile mentioned he was good at sports, liked to 'woo a girl,' and that he once collected Pokemon cards as a hobby. "Find the place, okay?" Over instant messaging, Zach suggested we go golfing at a place that allowed eating near the green. Golfing did not sound like a date to me. So, I politely requested that we try out a small cafe that was coincidentally just down the street near my favorite bookshop. 

The date was fine, it wasn't awkward enough to prompt me an excuse to leave, but it wasn't thrilling enough either, to make me forget about Spencer. 

"Y/N?" Zach asked, finishing the last of his food. 

"Yeah?" 

"You're not over him, are you?" 

"Im sorry, who?" Could he see right through me? 

"Your ex, or whoever the guy is you're clearly still hung over about." I nodded, allowing Zach to foot the bill as I apologized for being such a lousy date. "No harm done, really. Oddly enough, this isn't the first time this has happened to me." I laughed at that. 

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't---it's just---I'm that obvious about it, huh?" 

"Well, he must be something pretty special to have your attention." I snorted at that. 

"Yeah, believe me, he is something, alright." 

-

When I decided to write to Spencer, in the letter, I begged him to write me back, believing whole-heartedly that, even if he wanted to, he couldn't. So, imagine my surprise when I found a letter with his handwriting all over it. 

Dear Y/N, 

I can't tell you how sorry I am for making it so that we can't see each other. I promise you though, I have a good reason. You told me to always be safe in here, remember? Please trust that this decision wasn't easy to make, but that it is selfishly keeping me safe while inside. 

I miss you so much. My team is trying hard to exonerate me. I hate that as the days drag on, I am becoming more and more like the criminal that are in here, too, like the ones I've helped put away for so long. 

I hate it. I hate that being in here is slowly changing me, changing the way I think, the way I act, I can't stand it much longer. Seeing you would break me. It would remind me that I'm no longer the man who'd see you every week with a smile on his face. 

I wish I could be him again. 

If only for you. 

Yours truly, Spencer

I folded the paper back up, pressing it inside one of the many books I've borrowed from Spencer over the years. "Please stay safe, Spencer....please, for me." I repeated it like a mantra, carrying me to a deep sleep I hadn't known I needed. 

•••

Day 142 

I have only two guys in here I feel I can trust. Well, that I can trust more than anyone else in here. One is Calvin Shaw, who was an FBI agent before he murdered the woman who he had a marital affair with, one who was pregnant with his child. Guilt lead him to turning himself in, having already served over twelve years in here. The second is Luis Delgado. He never told me what convicted him to prison, but he claimed he was as innocent as I knew myself to be. 

Problem is, we were both becoming far too comfortable here. 

A couple of Shaw's 'buddies,' Frazier and Duerson, hunted us down in the laundry room, threatening to kill us if we refused to move a shipment of their drugs. I wanted to say 'no,' but I knew it was 'predator or prey' in here, and if I ever wanted to get out alive, I would have to be more of a predator than I have been. 

Getting more and more intense .... Got to fall deeper in to beat them ...  
Starting to think like them ... Starting to survive like them ... 

At group therapy, I was told to keep a journal. It's funny, cause since I met Shaw, I have been. Then I got Y/N's letter. I've written back, but have yet to receive a second letter from her. 

Rossi came to visit me. I asked him about the team, the current case they've been working on, anything to distract me from my day-to-day life I now live. "You never will be numb like they are, that's the difference." The day he told me that, I wanted to cry right there in front of him. But the other inmates were just chairs away, so I kept the tears locked inside. I wanted to tell Rossi I was writing to Y/N, but I couldn't because the whole point behind that was so we could still communicate without them gawking at her while she sat across from me. 

The day I had dreaded was here. 

During visitation, the guards announced there had been a lockdown. We all returned to our designated cells, waiting to find out the purpose behind what was going on. Shaw got one of the guards to inform him that someone tipped them off about finding drugs inside the cells of Bock D. I overheard Shaw refer to it as a known 'patsy scheme.' That simply translated to: I still have to move Frazier's drugs if I don't want to die.

Without Luis, a new guy, Malcolm, came into the laundry room, showing me the packet hidden neatly in a folded hand towel. He talked like he knew the place and the protocol like the back of his own hand. Mentioned he knew Shaw from years ago ... on the outside. 

Later, when I asked Shaw about it, he denied ever knowing the guy. I caught Duerson and Frazier lightly chatting in the cafeteria. It's been a few weeks now, but I'd been slowly piecing little pieces of evidence pointing me to Shaw being much higher up than he's been letting on. We were in the middle of a chess game when I caught Malcolm's eye, moving my last piece on the board before whispering "checkmate" under my breath. 

Back in the laundry room, I had the drugs right in front of me. I needed to think of something. I ended up lacing the drugs with a drop of poison. What I hadn't thought of, nor counted on, was Malcolm being forced to try the drug before they distributed it. The same guard from earlier came in right after me, accusing me of being the one to drug Malcolm as I knelt down to hear what he had to say. The guard called for a gurney, so sure that Malcolm wouldn't live to make it to the infirmary. I hated that he was right. 

Later, Tara came to see me. We were still in lockdown, but she told me Emily gave a convincing plea that I was in need of some 'mental help.' I guess it came up that my mother is schizophrenic. Once inside, she helped me piece together flashback of that night. The night that landed me where I am now. In the heat of the moment, when I felt so lost, I lashed out at her. 

"You have no idea what I'm capable of," I had told her with a clenched jaw. 

That night, I had a new letter in my hand from Y/N, but I couldn't bring myself to read it. I kept crumpling it, holding it tightly, causing my nails to slightly dig into the skin of my palms. 

-

"Oh my gooodddd, Spence!" Y/N slurred as I arrived at the bar she'd told me she was at on the phone, minutes earlier. I laughed when she attacked me, hugging me so tightly I swore any oxygen I had was sucked away by her presence. 

"How much have you had to drink?" I was aware she'd gone out with a few friends from work, luckily, a case haad wrapped up sooner than I thought, so I texted her to see if she wanted to meet me somewhere. She apologized, saying she was obligated to go out for drinks, since she'd ditched them before in the past to spend time with me. 

About an hour after that, she called me. 

"Only ... four? No! Five drinks, I think?" It was a little entertaining to watch her try and count on her fingers. It wasn't until I walked her over to the bar and made her drink some water, that I realized I hadn't seen any of her friends. "Oh, they all left some for some hotties." There was clear disappointment in her voice. I tried to sympathize with that, but in reality, I was just glad I was the one here now, taking care of her. 

"Do they do this often, ditch you for random guys?" I cringed as I asked, partly because I was afraid of the answer, and also, I knew I'd be on edge with any answer she'd give me right now. Y/N slowly sipped her water, not-so-discreetly eyeing the bartender. Before she answered me, he walked over and placed two shots in front of us. 

"No.. well, yes ... I mean, I'd do it too," she sighed, rubbing her fingers over the shot glass. "There is a guy I like, caught my eye and everything, it's just---there's no way he'd ever give me the time of day." I furrowed my brows at her, already knowing there was more she wasn't saying, though my heart dropped when she did. "I mean, he does, don't get me wrong, but just .... not like that."

I scoffed out of habit, not intentionally doing so, but met with Y/N's scolding eyes all the same. "Well, if he doesn't see you the same, then frankly, it's his loss." I almost smiled at that. Another guy's loss could be my gain. I shook my head at the thought. She's clearly not infatuated with you. 

"That's funny, you know, coming from you." I laughed. True, it was no secret that my dating life was, well, pretty much non-existent, but still----I laughed, even though I knew the minute those words left her mouth, they'd be laced with an undeniable feeling I hadn't yet completely accepted. 

"Alright, I'll bite. Why?" I shrugged my shoulders and I tentatively placed my index finger and thumb on the shot glass closest to me. Y/N was holding hers closer to her lips, eyeing me as she did so. After another long second of staring, I watched her down the shot in one go, no cough, no 'whiskey face' as Morgan had once explained, just ----her, as if she'd down a shot of apple juice. She slowly turned towards me now, leaning in closer until she touched her forehead to mine. 

"Because, Spencer ... it's you." What? "You're the guy I wish would give me the time of day ... like that." 

-

Each day felt like another slip down a deeper black hole I finally accepted I may never crawl my way out of. 

•••

It's been a couple of months now since I last wrote Spencer a letter. Every day, I check my mailbox, hoping to see one from him, but I could never find it amongst the bills and the junk mail. I even stooped so low as to asking all my neighbors if they happen to come across a letter meant for me, but again, no such luck. 

Spencer's been in prison now for over six months now. His teams seems to be nowhere near close to exonerating him. I'm starting to lose it. Six months without my best friend. I keep rereading the letters he's written me, over and over, new tears falling onto the old pages. I needed to do something to get me out of this state of mess, but nothing seems doable. 

That's when I decided to pay the BAU a visit. Surely someone there who knows Spencer would be able to help me. Even when I'm not sure what type of help I feel I need. I just need something, anything. 

Thankfully, the first person I met was the warm, colorful, Penelope Garcia. Spencer always made sure to speak of her in the highest regard, though secretly telling me he still finds himself in friendly competition with her, sometimes over the silliest things. She welcomed me inside her 'batcave' which was filled with the most unique array of memorabilia I had ever seen. 

"So, Y/N, what brings you to my delightful corner of the world?" I took a seat next to her, finding myself wondering just how many times Spencer has sat in this exact chair, telling his dear friend all his worries and problems. 

"...I miss him." I couldn't help it. The dam broke. I let out all my pent up feelings and emotions ever since Spencer made it clear he couldn't bare to allow me to visit him anymore. She wrapped her arms around me immediately, whispering to me that she worries too, that Spencer is strong and, while we both knew he wasn't built for prison, he was highly intelligent, and would figure it out. "I just--I wish I could see him again, just once." As I let the last tear fall, I settled back into my seat, looking back up at Penelope. 

"Y/N. sweetie, was there something else?" Bless this woman. As someone else who also cared for the same man, she was making a point to keep her own feelings and opinions to herself and I will be forever grateful. 

"There is, but, um, I'll talk about it if you promise to allow me to listen to you next." She looked shocked, gripping her octopus coffee mug even more. 

"Y/N, I've been talking to Emily and J.J., thank you, but I'm good. Not great, obviously, but I'm here for you." I gave her a sympathetic smile, letting her know in unspoken words how grateful I am for her, as a person and, as a friend. 

"Okay, it feels like Spencer and I are ... in a fight." Penelope's brows creased as she showed me her confusement. 

"I don't understand. You and Spencer never fight." 

"How would you know?" She returned a pointed look to me. 

"If you did, trust me, I'd have heard all about it by now." I let out an exasperated laugh, pulling myself back together slowly. 

"Well, it feels like it, and we did have a fight." I looked up to gage her reaction. "We fought about our feelings...just days before he lef---before he left for Mexico." 

So...I told Penelope the story. 

-

"What ever happened to uhh, what's-his-face?" Spencer questioned me one Saturday while we were sitting on his couch, enjoying some Doctor Who reruns. I glared back over at him. He was clearly referring to Matt, a guy I'd met at the bar one night a few weeks ago. I'd seen him again, but then, I ended up only seeing ... Spencer. Knowing that dating was a loss-cause for me until I can work through my feelings, I deleted that stupid app. 

"You mean Matt?" Spencer looked back over at me, one eyebrow shooting up to his hairline. He nodded his head slowly. "Well, it turns out I'm broken when it comes to romance," I mused. "I even deleted the possibility of ever having a date like that ever again." 

"That bad, huh?" I wanted to strangle him for the millionth time. How did he not know he's the reason why I can't find it in me to date anyone who isn't him? 

"No, the date didn't suck, it's just----every guy can tell I'm hung up on someone else." 

"Y--you are?" Just like that, Spencer was sitting up straighter, avoiding any and all eye contact with me. 

"...Yes. Spencer, do you know something I don't?" I was acutely aware that there was a small chance one of his co-workers could have let it slip. I needed to know so I could play it off as a false lapse in common sense on my part. He was sitting eerily quiet, fidgeting with a single button on his shirt, taking it out, then putting it back in. As I caught myself thinking that, my brain went down the one rabbit hole I didn't have time for ... not now. 

"I--you---" he sighed, bringing his hands together in front of him, intertwining them in a nervous manner. I sucked in a slow gulp. "A while ago, I---you called me and, you were out with friends...drinking." I nodded, now remembering the night he must be referring to. "You were telling me about some guy, and--and I know it was stupid, but I--you said 'You're the guy I wish would give me the time of day ... like that.'" I froze. Was he....? "I just---I know you didn't mean anything by it, but--"

"Who says I didn't mean anything by it?" I said it so softly, I didn't think Spencer would hear it. But, he did. He stopped mid-sentence and looked right at me--his eyes appeared hurt by my words. I cleared my throat and tried again, hoping my voice held more confidence this time. "I might not remember saying that, and I'm sorry, but--it doesn't mean I didn't mean that." 

"No, I'm sorry, please, just forget I said anything," he whispered, his lip quivering as he moved to face the TV once more. I should have dropped it, concealed my heart once more, taking this moment as a lesson to be far more careful around Spencer while intoxicated. 

"Spence, please, I need to tell you how I feel." He scoffed lightly, shrugging his shoulders, not looking at me at all. 

"Y/N, don't. I know exactly how you feel about me. I'm glad you're my friend, I really am, so please, stop teasing me when I know there's no possible way you could ever lo---" I had grabbed him by his chin, feeling the stubble as I connected my lips to his. They were warm and hesitant against mine, and I wanted to convince him more than ever that he's always been more to me than just a friend. We moved slowly, as if we were both testing the waters, trying to decipher what was going on through the language of teeth and tongues. Just as I felt him relax, Spencer pulled away, leaving me flushed and out of breath. "What the fuck was that for?"

It sure as hell wasn't the response I was expecting, but this one was far worse. 

"Spencer? I---I kissed you." 

"Yeah, I know. Why?" Hearing the tone laced with his words sent an uneasy feeling down the pit of my stomach. I felt like I was going to hurl. Before I could attempt one more time to convince him of the truth, he glared up at me with a look I never want to see from his face ever again. "Y/N, I--please, just leave. I just---I need to be alone." I didn't want to leave. Hell, I didn't even want to remove myself from his couch. But, that look he was giving me, it pushed me out his door all on it's own. 

I blinked and suddenly found myself outside his apartment door just in time to hear him slam it. Seconds later, I heard what I presumed to be his bedroom door slam shut in the same manner. I had half a nerve to pull out my phone and call him. But as I did so, staring down at his picture next to his number, I paused. 

I decided that maybe he'd been stressed out moreso than normal, given what has been happening with his mother. I recalled how he had mentioned before that she was coming here to live with him while he focused on getting her into medical trials. 

Guess finding out your best friend is in love with you might throw one for a loop when added to that mix. I glanced back, choosing to let it go, Spencer will surely come find me and together, we'll work this out. 

I hope. 

-

"So....four days later, one of you called me to tell me Spencer was found in Mexico...and all I can think about is that stupid fight we had." Penelope gave me a sincere frown as she opened her arms once more for me. She really deserves the highest of awards for best hugger ever---well, next to the genius, himself, that is. "Thank you so much, Penelope." 

"We're going to get him back, Y/N. We have to." 

•••

Day 294. 

I have been behind these bars now for two-hundred and ninety-four days. Almost ten whole months. Y/N's letters stopped a couple months after mine had. I couldn't keep writing to her when all I had to talk about was the deteriorating madness I was now accustomed to everyday. 

To survive this long, I've had to do and say things I never thought I'd ever think to need to take to my grave. Favors I only agreed to in hopes of seeing her face again. Of getting out of this hellhole. 

Today was J.J.'s day to visit me. 

I kept begging Garcia to take everyone's name off the list. She refused. I will never understand how I got so incredibly lucky to have such wonderfully amazing friends to call family. As I followed the line down to the visitation room, I saw J.J. sitting there, a look of worry and surprise on her face. 

"Hi," she said, clearly trying hard to resist the urge to hug me. I nodded silently, knowing the feeling. Human contact is something I've gone so long with now, it would almost feel foreign to me. 

"Hi," I mirrored, taking my own seat, wondering why she was here. 

"I'm uhh, surprised you agreed to see me." 

"Jennifer, I appreciate you taking the time to come down here, but--it's been almost ten months and you all have been no closer to finding Scratch. Face it, he---he's gone and I---I'll be locked up for years." The way she took in the realization of my words hit us both harder than either one of us expected. 

"Spence---I'm here because.. because Y/N came to talk to Penelope." I stopped tapping my foot against the cold concrete beneath us. Y/N? She went to the BAU to talk to...Garcia? I swallowed the newfound lump forming in my throat, knowing it would burn me regardless. 

"Jennif---" 

"Spencer." That got my attention. "Look, whatever is going on between you two...I know how much she means to you. Please, can you just--can you hear me out here?" I slumped back into my chair, causing it to squeak and welcome unwanted eyes on me for longer than I was ever used to. 

"Hey, man, if you ain't hittin' that, let me have a crack." I recognized that voice. I snapped my head back to the door, clenching my jaw, giving this talkative inmate the best heartless stare I could manage. I have to admit, watching him fold in on himself and shrinking back to his cell was one of few satisfying moments I have found in recent months. A low whistle came from J.J. as I turned my attention back to her, noting the clear smirk on her face before it morphed back into a sad one. 

"I see you're taking Morgan and Luke's advice to heart." I could only nod again in response, taking in a deep breath as I let my lips curl only slightly in a small smile. 

"It's been rough---since everything with Shaw," I muttered, giving her a look to let her know I was ready to hear about Y/N. 

"She misses you--we all miss you, but ... well, Garcia told me that she was hoping to see you again." 

"Absolutely not!" I whisper-shouted all too fast. I didn't go through all that trouble just to cave in and let her see me like...this. I instantly dug the palm of my hands into my closed eyes, letting the pressure cloud my mind for just a second. "Listen to me, Jennifer, Y/N cannot come here. I thought I made that pretty damn clear the last time." 

"She misses you, Spence. We all do." I bit my lip as I let myself relax a little. I rub my hands all over my face, wanting nothing more at this point that to go back to my cell and sulk. "I know by now, it feels like you'll be in here .. forever, but I promise you, Spence, we are working on this." I lowered my hands to see her face. It was stoic and calm. Tell-tale signs she's telling me the truth. 

"For the sake of conversation, are there any new leads?" J.J. smiled a little. 

"Actually," she gestured for me to lean in closer, "Stephen has some trustworthy eyes down in Mexico. Yesterday, Scratch was photographed outside in Candelaria, which is near the border not far from where you were arrested." I tried keeping the hope bubble that had now formed in my throat from coming up and choking me. I wanted to believe J.J. and Walker, really I do, but I've been here for longer than any of us ever imagined. As much as I hate to admit it, my cell has slowly been becoming home to me. It's not the home I want, but it is the home I am in. 

"J.J., I----thanks, thank you for telling me this, but I just---I need more proof than that before I'll allow myself to hope to get out of here." With that, I stood up from my chair, rattling it without knocking it over as I walked over the the guard responsible for walking me back to my cell. 

The minute I'm aware I'm alone, I pull my journal out from its hiding spot, and start writing. As I'm watching the lead trace on the paper, I find myself thinking back to the night I asked Emily for a ride home from the bar. Y/N didn't show that night, and I began worrying it had something to do with the kiss we shared ... and the fallout that happened after. 

-

"Hey, Emily, mind if I get a ride from you?" I was thankful it had been her night to drive, but Garcia and the others opted to stay later than she could, so it was unanimously decided whoever stayed would just split a taxi or Uber. 

"Yeah, sure, Spence ... you uhh, got something on your mind?" We both folded ourselves in her car, the radio coming on the second she started it. Turning it down, she looked back at me, knowing I had words to say. "Hey, look, why don't I come up with you when we get to your apartment, and you can talk while I listen." I nodded, not trusting my voice as she placed a gently hand on my shoulder before pulling out of the parking lot. 

Once safely inside my apartment, we silently put our stuff down near my door, quietly taking our seats on my couch--the same couch I had only recently had the worst fight of my life on. To top it off, my mother was now here and the medicine I'd finally found that seemed to help her .. Aducanumab ... well, the other day she flushed it all down the toilet. The only place I've been able to get it is from a woman down in Mexico. Rosa Medina. 

The truth is, in preparation for welcoming my mother to live with me, I've been flying down to Mexico most days we have off, to get the medication. Since the FDA has yet to approve Aducanumab, it is still considered illegal in the US. Because of this, I have kept any knowledge of this from my team. I only told my mother the truth as a way to get her to take the drug. 

"Spence...please, I can tell something is weighing on you. I'd like to help." I thought about telling Emily all about Mexico right then and there, but instead, I only brought up Y/N. 

"Y/N and I ... we--we had a fight." Emily's frown turned into a sympathetic smile, her hand moving to rub my arm lightly. 

"Oh, Spencer, I'm sure whatever it was, the two of you will work it out, you always do." 

"Not this time, Em." 

Emily moved into a more comfortable position, facing me directly, giving me a look I couldn't decipher. "You haven't noticed anything ... different about her lately?" Different? What? 

"You mean other than the fact that she's been playing some cruel joke on me, then no, I haven't." I know I sounded bitter just then, but the fact that Emily knew too, just made me mad. 

"Crue jok----No. Spence, Y/N loves you. In fact, she's told me, granted it was girls' night, but I promise you, she is in love with you--her best friend." 

"No, Em, she's not. I'm just a friend. She only comes to me when she no longer has a boyfriend to do things with, or when a date goes south." Emily looked amused. 

"And...have you ever taken the time to think about why?" 

"What?" 

"Trust me, no guy is going to last long with her simply because none of them are you." I could only stare at her, stunned. Still, I shook it off, refusing to believe what was apparently right in front of me this whole time. 

"No, that's not the reason," I mumbled, not at all convincing in the least. Emily scoffed from her spot, moving again, this time a little closer, eyeing me suspiciously. 

"What are you so afraid of?" What the hell am I afraid of? I mull her words over in my brain, choosing to drink more of my coffee, noticing it was mostly gone. 

"I uhh, I don't know, I haven't--I never exactly cared to want any of it since ... Maeve." It's true. Sure, I've had crushes, even gone on a few dates, but still; in the back of my mind I always knew I was never going to walk down the aisle with any of them, so why bother? But Y/N? I was starting to see it. The dates, the laughs, the kisses, getting married, kids ... I saw all of it---and it scared me. 

"Spence, I know you loved her, and probably will forever, but---I just thought you had fallen for Y/N all the same." 

"Emily, you know I love her, it doesn't change anything." 

"Spencer, I am only going to say this once. It would simply change everything." 

-

'It would simply change everything...' 

Those were the words that got me through the next few weeks, that is ... until I would see Y/N again. 

•••

Why did I let myself drive all the way here? He's made it perfectly clear he doesn't want to see me. So, why am I here, parked in the visitors' parking lot of the Milburn Correctional Facility with a special visitors' pass usually only reserved for spouses? Because, Garcia, herself, informed me that putting in a request as Spencer's fiancé for a conjugal visit was the only way to bypass the fact that I was off his original visitors list. 

As I fiddled with my loose skirt, sitting on the lousy cot they call a bed, I heard the familiar buzzing sound, telling me that they were bringing Spencer inside. When the door slid open, the look in his eyes was a mixture of anger, surprise, and---something else. 

"Y/N? I thought I told---" he paused, looking around the room as the guard undid his handcuffs, closing the door and locking it, leaving the two of us in here, alone. "I swore I made it damn clear to both Garcia and even Emily that I didn't want any more visitors .... especially you." The way he said it didn't scare me in the least. Not when I looked him over, taking in how unruly his hair looked, curls everywhere, yet none covered his gorgeous face. The pain that was clear behind his eyes caught me off guard, but the way he carried himself now, I could tell whatever he has done in here, he did for the sole purpose of surviving, so that one day he could come home ... to me. 

All at once, I was reminded of the night we kissed, and how our last talk went, how he made it a point to keep me from seeing him---I suddenly felt like I couldn't breathe. "I---I'm sorry. You're right, I shouldn't have come here." I sat up, not at all gracefully, stumbling towards the locked door, ready to knock and go cry in my car. 

"Please, Y/N..." Spencer whispered as he reached out and wrapped his large hand around my arm, gently pulling me back to him. Before I could register what was happening, he bent down, picking up something shiny that clearly had fallen out of my purse. "Here, you uhh, you dropped this." It was my compact mirror. Sure enough, another memory took presence in my head. Carefully, I opened it, keeping the mirror away from his face. 

"Wanna see something beautiful?" 

•••

Day 349

The doors to my cell opened. I barely heard the alarm on the door go off, I was busy writing any sane thoughts I could muster in my journal. Because of this, the guard that walked in...saw it. In a matter of seconds, he was grabbing it out of my hands. If I had a better plan, I could have taken my pencil, shoving it anywhere on him with exposed skin. 

Unfortunately, I wasn't that smart in that moment. 

"Hey! The counselor wants me to keep a journal," I argued, blindly thinking that would be enough to convince to give me back the last lifeline I felt I had to the outside world. It had been months now since I had any visitors. I was grateful for that, in a way. I've been able to somewhat make a reputation for myself in here. I had a lot of rebuilding to do once Shaw outed me as a fed. I've managed to get myself in and out of solitary confinement when the time presented itself. I needed to figure out what Scratch's endgame was. Why was putting me, of all BAU agents, part of it? If anything, maybe he thought I'd be the first to give up Hotch's WitSec location? 

"Doesn't matter," the guard interrupted my thoughts. "Contraband is contraband. On your feet, inmate. You got a visitor. Walk with me." A visitor? What the hell? 

"No, there must be some mistake, I specifically asked for no visitors," my useless ramblings meant nothing to him as he continued to strong-arm me down the hall. We passed the visitors' center, moving further south, near the conjugal visit room. 

Wait. 

Why is he taking me here? This room is reserved for inmates who have spouses. This room usually has a bed which is typically used for---

"Do I look like I care? Got a call. Count your lucky stars, inmate. It's not every day I see someone's fiancé fight this hard to see them." Before I could get out the words that were caught in my throat, the guard opened the door, revealing Y/N in a blouse and skirt, sitting delicately on the bed ... waiting for me. 

-

"Wanna see something beautiful?" 

Her words still hung in the air between us, the small almost miniscule space where only a thin piece of paper could separate our noses. I audibly gulped, recalling exactly when I had asked her the very same question. 

Carefully, I watched her bring the tiny mirror up as she took a tiny step back, placing it directly in between us. Y/N never asked me to close my eyes, like I had done. Once I was able to focus, all I could see was what the past year had done to me. Every moment I felt alone, scared, the feelings of the towel in my mouth, the way I watched my friend draw his last breath .... it all hit me like a tidal wave. I shut my eyes on instinct, completely focused on my breathing, trying to level it as best I could....that's when I felt her hand touch my arm. 

"Spence...it's me..Y/N..I promise, baby, it's just me." 

When I opened my eyes, her mirror, holding my reflection, was still staring back at me. "Y/N, I appreciate you trying to cheer me up, but I promise you, I'm anything but beautiful. Infact, I'm nowhere near that, especially when I'm standing next to you." 

"Wh---why didn't you want me to visit you?" Her voice was so soft and quiet, I barely heard it. 

"Y/N, in here, I've had to do things....think things I never thought I'd ever find myself doing...all to just survive. Th--there's no way you'd ever love me...not anymore, not... not when I've done unspeakable things I can never take back, no matter how much I want to---no matter how much I wish I could .... to be the man you were once in love with... even when I was too stubborn to believe it." I took in a deep breath, desperately trying not to fall apart completely in front of her. "I--it would break me to see you afraid of me." 

"Spencer...I--I don't know what to say." 

I nodded, moving towards the door to knock, letting the guard know I was ready. Before my fist could even reach the metal, I felt a pair of hands on my face, pulling me back---feeling a pair of warm, welcoming lips roam over mine, a feeling I never thought I'd get the chance to have, again. 

This time, I allowed myself to deepen the kiss, exploring her mouth with my tongue in a way I was reluctant to do so last time we found ourselves in a similar situation. I felt one of her hands crawl up my arm, scratch over my neck, only to settle in my hair, tugging at my roots, pulling a moan from me neither of us expected to hear. "Fuuuck, Spence..." I hear her whisper into my ear, feeling her teeth tug on my earlobe, eliciting another response on my end. 

I use my own hand to grip her by her hair, causing her to let go of mine, her eyes wide with a lustful stare I never thought I'd see....I bent down to latch my teeth to the spot where her shoulder and neck meet, sucking hard enough to leave a mark. "T-too many clothes," I manage to say, my fingers pulling at her blouse, then her bra straps. 

knock, knock

Within seconds, Y/N and I separate while she hastily pulls her top back up, fixing the rest of her clothes, only to realize far too late that there's nothing she can do to hide the bruising mark I left for all to see. 

"---you, and let the others know they're lucky Reid's getting out. I hear he's got quite the reputation arou---" As the door swung open, there was SSA Luke Alvez, a face I hadn't seen in over 132 days. His face fell, and I turned my head to follow his gaze, landing right in Y/N's neck. He shifted his stance, once inside, folding his arms in front of him, now squarely facing me. "Uhh, Reid--I'm uh, here to---how in the hell did you earn yourself a conjugal visit?!" 

Y/N and I just shared a knowing look, both of us fighting to keep the pending laughter from leaking out our mouths. "Uhmm, well, I---Y/N, this is SSA Luke Alvez, one of my--friends, and Luke, this is Y/N, my---" I froze. We both know she's my best friend, but just minutes ago, it most definitely felt far more than that. 

Y/N walked over to me, her hand casually intertwining itself with mine, as she gave Luke her best smile I've ever seen. "Hi, Luke, sorry, I believe Spencer was about to introduce me as his ... girlfriend, right?" I felt a strong heat flush the spots just below my eyes, my gaze moving from Y/N to Luke. 

"Girlfriend, huh? Last I checked, girlfriends don't get granted conjugal visits." He shook his head, a smirk showing as he gave us a pointed look. We followed him to a room I had only seen once before. The room where you either go in a person from the outside world and become an inmate, or you walk in an inmate, and exit, a free person. 

As I walked out, dressed in one of Y/N's favorite outfits of mine, I couldn't help the grin that spread across my face as I walked out the doors of the Milburn Correctional Facility for the last time. Luke and Y/N were waiting for me by the door, the three of us walking out towards Luke's car. 

In the backseat, Y/N and I were gripping each other close, our hands never letting go. 

"So," I whispered, once I noticed Luke was talking with Emily over the phone. "you think you're my girlfriend, now?" I couldn't help but tease her a little. Y/N buried her face in my chest as I brought my free hand up to tangle my fingers in her hair while my nose got a good whiff of her shampoo. I inhaled sharply, knowing I would never take her for granted ever again. 

"Well, Dr. Reid, if you feel I need to earn that title, maybe we should reconvene our um, previous activities back at your place..." 

My eyebrows shot up at the thought of having my way with her in the best way possible. I leaned down, capturing her lips in a sweet, fulfilling kiss. We only realized we had an audience in Luke when he cleared his throat and spoke up. 

"Alright, you two. I'd appreciate it if you could keep my back windows from fogging up." 

\-------♥--------


End file.
